Leaving the creamy whites of 205 is never easy. The cave in which you have just been disconnected from your dreams. The blueviolet garish corridors hit you in the face. Gory indianred tiles shine beneath your feet as you move, almost begging you to rush. Quite like the blood which has also been jolted from its slumber.
You climb down the uninspired dirty orange steps, beaten by time, through the macabre brown of the 1st floor, trading the mediumaquamarine of B29’s basement to the little lifelike limegreen towards your right, through the narrow difficult path sandwiched between the loud canteen and the ignored flowers.
You come out in haste. Your mind fails to register the sad dismissive mediumpurple of B28 sitting atop white neglected tubelights. As you walk alongside neatly lined shiny cars on your right, the inspiring sprawl opens up. For a very long minute, your eyes cannot believe themselves. The harmony in the moment is highlighted by very subtle colors. An almost natural interplay of serenity and awe. The backdrop of the sky is an indigo infused with rebeccapurple, carelessly decked with specs of murky snow. Beneath that starless canopy is the boulevard neatly lined with smoky white lamps. Careless chatter adorns the focus of these spotlights. The boulevard is in sharp contrast to the din of the ground behind, resting in abandon. On the horizon, through the lens of the smoky snow, a neatly lined shadow sits prettily beneath the dim purple. You take a turn towards the gate and arrive at the glaring mercury lit streets of Bombay. And you are reminded of how beautiful the streets of this city are at night. As good as anywhere. The sharp turn away from you towards an unknown, golden as your nostalgia running amok like fireflies.
As you turn back you see the glimmer of the white from atop sprinkled on the trees, bathed like a fake moonlight. The yellowish brown of B29 questions you. And you walk back towards the lone tree in the garden standing against the might of the sky. The poignant golden elusive corner bears witness to died laughter lived but moments ago. The mediumslate blue door welcomes you back into your beige dream once again.